


Victims of War

by T-hai-la (Cammerel)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Bottom Spock, Cock Slut Jim, Face-Fucking, First Contact, First Meetings, Jim and Spock meet as kids and it's cute, Kid Jim, Kid Spock, M/M, Oh and the underage stuff isn't like full on sex, POV Spock, Protective Spock, Starfleet doesn't rly exist because war happens instead, Top Jim, War, it just gets a teensy bit heated, nothing too graphic i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 06:45:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13429092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cammerel/pseuds/T-hai-la
Summary: As Vulcans settled bases on Earth, as the war began, what was a timid relationship became volatile almost in a single moment.Not one day passed that Spock did not think of the blue-eyed boy and the love and companionship they shared. Bonded for life to a Terran, he welcomed himself to isolation from others emotionally. As he grew, he refused to allow himself to hold out any hope that Jim was still alive, not when the Terran body count continued to rise.





	Victims of War

**Author's Note:**

> I decided that if I don't post this now, I may never. I've been fighting with it for over a week. There are still more scenes of this written, I may post them one day, but this is what I got for you guys. More MAY come, but no promises. Even then, it'd just be a couple small scenes that I can't complete for whatever reason, I'm blaming writer's block.

Spock is only five years old when his mother finally sits him down and explains his heritage.

She tells him of the Vulcan’s first contact with Terran, something he is only slightly aware of at the time. And then she tells him of how her love for his father came to be, how he was open and kind, welcoming a union of the two in hopes that it would inspire a similar unity between Terran and Vulcans.

It was not immediate.

In the seven years between then and today, Terran have been very apprehensive, only allowing Vulcans down a handful of times to meet with them.

Spock is only five, and they board a shuttle together - his mother and him - and she touches his shoulder.

“My son,” she says in a way that is calming to Spock, “You may not know, but you might just be the only Vulcan child capable of doing what I hope you can accomplish today.”

Spock stares up at his mother, curious and now more confused, “What am I do, mother?”

“‘To do’,” she corrects and then sighs, a very Terran thing to do, he has been told, “I cannot tell you. I can only hope that you are the son I raised.”

Spock does not understand how he cannot be the son she raised, as there are only two of them. There is no question of whether or not he has been raised by her.

“I wish only that you be honest,” his mother explains further, “Be honest, Spock. I can’t tell you any more than that. This is about honesty and our willingness to gain trust. It’s up to you to show them that we deserve that trust.”

“But I am only one thousand nine hundred and twenty-eight days old,” Spock’s brows furrow, “How am I do what the Vulcan council has been unable do all of my life?”

His mother smiles, the hand on his shoulder touching the back of his hair, “‘To do’,” she corrects him again, “And that is exactly why. You are a child, and therefore are incapable of deceit.”

“While deceit itself is illogical,” Spock tries to explain, “I do not understand why me being a child would make me incapable of the act itself.”

“You are young,” his mother explains, “You don’t have ill-intentions because you have not become so diluted with power and strength and impurities. You haven’t been bought over for political gain.”

“I still do not understand politics,” Spock admits, “I have found myself questioning the motive behind an act that can be so easily mandip… man-… what is the Terran word again?”

“Manipulated,” she supplies for him, “You’ve done good so far.”

“Thank you, mother,” Spock says, his short legs unable to reach the floor beneath his seat as he looks out the window to the planet below, “Praise is not required at this time.”

He hears his mother laugh from his side, “No, maybe not from your father. But I am proud.”

Spock does not look back at her, “You are always proud of me.”

“I am,” he can hear the smile still in her voice, “I am always proud of you, Spock. You are my light.”

“I am not bioluminescent,” Spock turns to her then, “I do not understand what you mean.”

He watches his mother bite her top lip, then she touches just over her chest, “Think of my heart as the Earth below us,” then she points out towards the sun, “That is you.”

Spock blinks slowly, following her hand. He tilts his head as he considers what she is telling him. He still does not understand.

“It is… metaphorical?”

“Yes,” she kisses the top of his head, “Good job, two big words in a different language. I think you’re making up for ‘manipulation’.”

“I did have the last 4.7 months to study,” Spock tells her, frowning, “And you have shared words with me all of my life. It would be illogical to think that I would not be almost fluent.”

“Yet still you refuse to embrace contractions.”

Spock resists the urge to shrug, though he has seen his mother do it many times, “I feel it… often lends itself to miscommunication, in Terran language.”

His mother looks at him in surprise and, if he is assuming correctly, appreciation, “That can often be the case.”

The next 10.3 minutes pass in silence and the shuttle finally lands on Terran ground.

“What should you expect when you walk outside, Spock?”

Spock purses his lips, “The sky will be a light blue,” he says, “The ground will not be desert, like on Vulcan. It will be… grass, most likely. Or gravel, possibly. The gravity here is lighter than on Vulcan and the air will be more dense. It will also be colder than what I am accustomed to.”

He follows his mother out, and though he knew what to expect, it did not fully prepare him.

At once, he adjusts to take lighter breaths, but the grass…

He stares down at it beneath his feet, following his mother blindly and finally glancing up when he hears another woman talking.

“Hello there, I’m Winona,” she says, her long blonde hair tied out of her face. She looks down at him, “And this is Spock.”

Spock bows slightly, “I am pleased to meet you, Mrs. Winona Kirk.”

She smiles and turns back, shoving the boy out from behind herself, “Go on, Jimmy.”

Spock sees the tentative child pushed out to meet him and he steps aside from his mother to greet him. He is taller than Spock by 2.3 inches, with short, messy dirty blond hair and the bluest eyes Spock has ever seen. They are just as blue as the sky above.

“I am Spock,” he tells the boy, bowing low again.

“I’m Jim,” the boy says gruffly, then suddenly reaches out to grab Spock’s ears.

The two women gasp, as does Spock, but he stays still and allows the boy a moment to observe them.

“They’re not fake!” he shouts in surprise, then tugs at them again.

“Jimmy!” Winona shouts.

Spock’s mother stops her, “It’s fine, it’s okay. He can’t hurt him.”

“I’m so sorry,” Winona says in embarrassment.

Spock waits until Jim is done, and then he takes his own hands from behind his back as he straightens up, “May I?” he asks as Jim nods, but before he can, his mother stops him.

Her eyes are wide, and then Spock realizes that his hands are not covered.

“My apologies,” Spock says, then takes the gloves from his pocket and pulls them on, “I am a touch telepath,” he explains to Jim, “May I touch them now?”

Jim nods hurriedly and grabs Spock’s arms to put them up to his ears. As he touches them, Jim asks: “What is a touch tele-peth?”

“Telepath,” Spock corrects him, “It means I can read your mind if I touch you,” he explains, “As I am still a child, I cannot fully control it, and it is very invasive. I am afraid it would not be pleasing.”

As he speaks, he can hear his mother and Winona speaking as they watch them interact, Winona making unusual sounds like ‘awe’ and ‘oh’.

Jim nods again, “You’re wearing a dress.”

Spock lifts a brow when he finally pulls his hands back, “These are not a ‘dress’, they are robes. These are traditional Vulcan robes worn when making new acquaintances.”

“Are you naked underneath?”

“Jim!” Winona shouts in surprise again.

Spock looks at the two women and ignores the way his mother smiles at him, “Mother, may Jim and I speak in privacy without further interruptions? I feel that your presence is souring our acquaintanceship.”

Winona laughs at him while looking surprised, then turns to his mother as well.

“That’s Vulcan for ‘leave us alone’,” his mother explains, making Spock narrow his eyes more, “How about we go inside? We can watch them from there. I assure you, he’s safe with Spock.”

As they walk away, Spock does not miss his mother describing him as a ‘gentle boy’.

He looks back at Jim then, “I am not naked under my robes,” he finally tells the boy staring at him in awe, “I have two shirts underneath. A long-sleeved one with thermal heating because your planet is quite cold, and then a shorter-sleeved one underneath that. I am also wearing pants. Would you like to see?”

Jim nods and Spock carefully takes off his robes to show Jim. Once he exposes his thermal jacket, Jim reaches out to poke it.

“What’s this?”

“It is traditional Vulcan calligraphy.”

“What’s it say?”

“It says ‘Rata’,” he motions to the symbols each, “‘Tafar’, and ‘Tapan’. Or in Terran standard: ‘Concept, discipline, and process’.”

He shivers then, dropping his hand back to his side.

“You’re cold.”

“I am, but I can-”

“Well, put your dress back on,” Jim tells him.

Spock does so, lifting his brows, “It is not a dress.”

“Robe, yeah,” Jim corrects himself, “Got any questions for me?”

Spock finishes the buttons on his robe and observes Jim for a long moment, “You are not wearing any kind of formal attire?”

“I’m a kid,” Jim shrugs.

“That is no excuse.”

“Mom hates putting me in things, cuz I always stain them or tear them or ruin them in some way.”

Spock believes it, he can tell how impatient the boy is, he concludes that the only thing keeping Jim where he is currently is Spock himself, and Jim’s curiosity about him.

“Anything you wanna do?” Jim asks, “We could play some games, watch a movie or something.”

Spock does not really want to do any of those things, “Would it be unusual to want to touch the grass?” he asks and Jim starts laughing. Spock frowns, “Forgive me, I do not see what is so amusing.”

“I mean, you can touch it if you want to,” Jim finally says, smiling wide and open.

“Vulcan is a desert,” Spock explains to him. Then he takes off his glove on his right hand and reaches down to touch the grass curiously. When he pulls back, he finds himself disappointed, “It is not soft as I initially hypothesized.”

Jim makes a face, “No, it’s not soft at all,” then he grabs Spock’s bare hand, “Come on, I’ll show you soft.”

Spock’s eyes widen in shock as he is pulled along. Not only does the touch project Jim’s emotions, but it causes an unusual stirring in his body, making his cheeks flush with blood coloring.

All he feels from Jim is joy, pure… unadulterated joy.

Jim stops on the other side of the house and motions for Spock to step ahead of him, “These are called ‘Hyacinths’,” he tells him.

Spock stares at the blue cluster of flowers, reaching out to touch them and closing his eyes when he smells them as well.

“They are… beautiful,” Spock observes as Jim squats down beside him.

And then Spock turns to look at Jim and he realizes that Jim’s eyes are not the blue of the sky, but of the flower. He feels his heart rate increase, his eyes wide.

“Your face is turning green.”

Spock stares silently for a moment, he is not sure how long, “Yes. Our blood is green, so when it goes to our cheeks-”

“Your ears are more green, too,” Jim touches his ear, then smiles, “You’re beautiful.”

Spock blinks in surprise when Jim leans in and presses their lips together. It is an unusual thing to do, but he does not find it to be bothersome or disturbing, so he returns the act.

The back door opens and the two turn to look up at their mothers. Winona is visibly upset and Spock can tell his own mother is concerned.

“Spock,” she says, motioning for him to join her, “I need to speak with you.”

Spock watches as Jim’s mother does the same with him, taking the other boy inside and Spock’s mother sits on the steps outside the back door.

She hurriedly puts back on his glove, frowning.

“I do not understand,” Spock says tentatively, “Have I done something wrong, mother?”

She smiles sadly, cupping his cheeks and looking into his eyes, “Spock.”

“Mother,” Spock responds, unsure of how to proceed, “You are putting me in a state of unease.”

“You know you can’t let him touch your hands,” she says, checking his gloves again.

“Forgive me, mother. He caught me unaware,” Spock bows slightly, “I did not expect him to take my hand as he did.”

“Well, we’ll be lucky if you didn’t bond with him.”

Spock’s eyes widen when he realizes what he has, most certainly, already done. He knows he has, so he withholds the information from his mother, “That concern had not occurred to me at the time. I only wished not to invade his thoughts.”

“Did you succeed?”

Spock ponders the question, “I do think so,” he admits, “I only gathered one emotion, one single emotion.”

His mother frowns, “What emotion?”

“It was…” Spock pauses, “It was joy.”

She smiles then, wide and startling, “That’s all?”

“That is all.”

“Oh Spock,” she pulls him into a hug, then kisses his forehead, “I leave you two alone for just a minute back here and he’s already kissed you.”

Spock blinks in confusion, “He did not kiss me, mother,” he tells her, “I was very careful not to touch him again after-”

“On your lips,” his mother explains, touching his chin and then looking at them as if she can see a change in them made by the other boy, “When Terran kiss, it’s not with the hands. We aren’t really sensitive there, but we are sensitive here.”

Spock tucks his lips in, almost as if to hide them, “I did not know.”

“How could you?” his mother laughs, “I was afraid you two wouldn’t get along at all. The last thing I thought he would do is /kiss/ you.”

“It was not unpleasant,” Spock says to try and ease his mother’s state of distress.

“Why /did/ he kiss you?” she asks then.

Spock is not sure why, but he supplies his mother with what he hopes is crucial information that will lead to a conclusion at least, “Before he placed his lips upon mine, he said that I was beautiful.”

He saw his mother’s eyes widen, a small smile forming on her lips.

“Mother, I have come to a conclusion myself.”

“Yes, Spock?”

“I believe Jim finds it aesthetically pleasing that I am green where he is red,” he motions to her cheeks where they have already begun to turn the dark shade, “He is a most unusual boy.”

His mother chuckles and kisses his head again, then sighs as she looks at the flowers, “You need to be careful with this Terran boy, Spock,” she tells him, then meets his eyes again as she explains, “His ways are different than our own. You have already shown him great kindness, and that’s all I could ever hope for. But Terran boys are fragile creatures. You need to… to treat him… like you would something delicate.”

Spock nods in understanding and the two look up when the back door opens. His mother stands from his side and joins Winona at the door as Jim steps back out.

Jim looks shy and nervous, and Spock steps towards him.

“I’m sorry,” Jim says, glancing back at his mother, then Spock again, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Spock takes another step closer, “I am not uncomfortable, Jim. You did not make me so.”

“I didn’t?”

“You did not.”

Jim smiles and still seems to need more convincing when he says: “Mom told me what I did was wrong.”

“I admit I am still unfamiliar with Terran customs,” Spock tells him, “But I do not feel as though you did anything wrong.”

“Then it was okay?”

“It…” Spock does not find the word applicable, “Yes, Jim, it is okay.”

Jim leans in quickly then and kisses him once more on the lips.

Winona and his mother gasp, Jim’s mother reaching out to grab his arm.

“Jim!”

“What? He said it was okay,” Jim complains, pulled nearly off his feet, shirt tugged up to expose his soft belly as Spock watches the exchange.

Their time spent together afterwards was under constant surveillance. Jim did try to kiss him three more times, each occurance being stopped when his mother cut him off as she spoke his name in warning.

Spock was gifted a beautiful blue hyacinth in a fertile pot, and seeds to plant more back on Vulcan (“Will these all be the very same blue as the one in the pot?”, “Yes, did you want any other colors?”, “No. I am satisfied with the blue.”), but before they left he reached up and tugged his mother’s robes.

“Would you please hold this for the moment, mother. I desire to say goodbye to my friend Jim.”

His mother laughs and takes the plant from him as he pockets the seeds in his robes.

He then steps over to Jim, “Perhaps when I come next, I will have a gift for you, Jim.”

Jim smiles and shrugs, “It don’t matter. Just don’t forget me.”

“I am incapable of forgetting you, Jim. This I can assure you,” Spock says. He glances at Jim’s mother, “If you will forgive me, Mrs. Winona Kirk.”

She looks confused for the moment, but then Spock cups Jim’s cheeks in gloved hands and plants a soft, chaste kiss on Jim’s lips.

“I still do not understand this Terran custom, but perhaps it is a more fitting parting than the Vulcan one I am familiar with,” he tells Jim, “I feel that you would find it… not unpleasant but… perhaps…” he looks back at his mother.

“Unsatisfactory?”

“Yes.”

Spock raises his hand in the Vulcan salute, “Until we meet again?”

“You bet,” Jim responds, trying to do the same.

Spock takes his leave of them, retrieving his flower from his mother and stepping back up into the shuttle.

They sit together as the craft lifts high into the sky. He remains silent for a long time, looking down at the blue of the hyacinth and seeing Jim’s eyes.

“You’re crying.”

Spock blinks, reaching up to touch his cheek and realizing that his mother is correct, “I do not know why.”

“You made a friend, Spock,” his mother tells him, “Your first real friend. It’s always sad to let them go.”

“I have not let go of Jim,” Spock responds, “Rather, I have taken some of him with me to Vulcan.”

* * *

Despite the heat of Vulcan, Spock’s hyacinth flourishes under the red sky. He plants the seeds of the others, watching them grow and bloom finally.

Every day he spends back on Vulcan, alone and in the company of his bitter peers, Spock reminds himself of the kindness he received from the boy with the blue eyes. A boy that knew nothing of his own kind, but did not judge him based on ignorance.

A year passes, and it is time again that he boards the shuttle to meet with Jim once more.

His mother tells him that they had agreed to meet once a year. She had referred to this tradition as ‘baby steps’. One day a year until she is comfortable with them staying longer.

The tension between Terran and Vulcan is still nearly palpable when Spock and his mother land on the planet for the second time. But none of it matters the moment Spock meets the blue eyes of the boy he made friends with a year ago.

Jim runs to him, barefooted, covered in dirt, throwing his arms around Spock and lifting him off his feet.

“Oh no,” his mother cries, but Spock cannot hear the rest of what she says over the sound of Jim shouting his name with such glee.

Spock has never met someone so overjoyed with seeing him.

He will admit he has feared some response from this human not dissimilar to his peers back on Vulcan, but Jim is still ever the kind heart that Spock knew last year.

“Jim,” he says, uncaring of the filth now upon his robes.

Jim sets him down, still taller than him, staring down into his eyes as he reaches up to touch Spock’s ears.

“Yup, still pointy.”

“Jim, I assure you that my ears will never wane and round as yours have,” Spock tells him, unable to hide his amusement, “I have a gift for you.”

Jim takes his hands back, smiling so wide that Spock fears it may cause muscular tissue damage, “Yeah?”

Spock turns to his mother, then his eyes widen, “You have forgotten it in the shuttle?” he asks, but he already knows, “Please excuse me for a moment, Jim.”

He turns his back, walking to the shuttle and climbing in. He moves to the back where his mother placed the gift before they departed Vulcan. He turns and stops when he sees Jim directly behind him.

“Ji-” his body tenses as Jim leans in and kisses him.

It is quick, chaste, and then Jim pulls back to look down at him.

“Was that okay?”

Spock is breathless, cheeks green, and he nods, “Yes, Jim, of course-”

“Mom told me not to,” Jim cuts him off, “But I wanted to.”

“I… wanted you to as well, Jim,” Spock says and then ducks his head, “Perhaps they cannot get mad if they are unaware.”

“Yeah,” then Jim took the gift from his hands, “What is it?”

“It is a Vulcan lute… or a harp.”

Jim looks up and laughs, “Silly, you’re not supposed to tell me before I open it.”

“But you asked me what it was.”

Jim smiles, leaning in to kiss him again before darting out of the shuttle.

Spock touches his lips, following after Jim tentatively and dropping his hand by his side when he’s back in his mother’s view.

* * *

Seven years pass by this way. In the middle of summer (the twentieth of June), Spock and his mother leave to visit Jim and his mother for the day.

From Vulcan, he is gone much longer on the trip to and from.

He meets with Jim, the two share the human kiss when out of their mother’s sight, and then tell one another about things they have been doing in their time apart.

Spock learns all that he can about Jim, about how he excels in school, his dreams for the future, his hopes for Terran and Vulcan to finally be able to put aside their petty tension.

In turn, Spock tells Jim of his own troubles. The racism he experiences because his mother is human, the insults told to him by his peers. But he expresses nothing for them other than pity, pity that they do not yet understand how wondrous the experience can be, and how much they all can learn from one another.

When Spock is twelve years old, he finally manages to convince his mother to let him stay for an extended length of time.

It has been seven years, leaving Vulcan for two months only to spend a day on Earth (less than a day, really, it hardly ever exceeds six hours).

This time when the arrive, the come not in a shuttle, but in a ship. Members of the Vulcan council are coming to speak with the leaders of the Terran, to begin what Spock hopes will eventually become a strong union in the future ahead.

Spock and his mother board their own separate shuttle once in the atmosphere, departing from their ship to drop down to Iowa where his friend awaits him.

The moment he is off the shuttle, there are arms around him once more.

Jim is still nearly a foot taller than him.

“Jim,” Spock says in relief, “ _Na'shaya_.”

“ _Nashaut_ ,” Jim responds, “Mom says you’re staying, we set up a guest room and everything.”

“That is right,” Spock confirms, then motions back to the shuttle as another Vulcan comes from inside, carrying luggage with him, “Show us the way?”

Jim takes Spock’s gloved hand, tugging him along as Spock glances to meet his mother’s curious gaze before they are out of sight.

Once Kovar has placed their belongings, Spock dismisses him, raising the ta’al to him and reciting their parting before turning his attention back to Jim.

“Jim, I admit I have missed you a great amount.”

Jim leans in before he can say anymore, pressing their lips together in what Spock quickly realizes is not their more common, chaste way.

Still, his hands raise up, tugging his left glove off and their extended index and middle fingers meet.

Spock’s eyes widen when a thumb touches his chin, drawing his mouth open in what he can only describe as a pleasing slip of saliva and tongue, heated breaths mingling together.

Jim pulls back when they are both out of breath, his forehead meeting Spock’s.

“I missed you too, _ashaya_.”

“Jim,” Spock meets those beautiful blue eyes, “ _Taluhk nash-veh k'dular_.”

“ _Ashau nash-veh du_ ,” Jim says and Spock blinks up at him.

“Your Vulcan is getting better,” Spock responds, able to feel the love emanating through their touch, “I love thee,” he kisses Jim again, “I do love thee.”

“We’re getting super sappy.”

“Indeed,” Spock agrees, his cheeks heating.

Jim finally pulls back, staring at him as he pulls his hand away, “ _Du vaksurik_.”

“You always think I am beautiful when I am experiencing flushed nervousness.”

“I /always/ think you are beautiful, always.”

“I believe your friends at school would tease you about being… what is it called? A ‘hopeless romantic’?” Spock asks, lifting a brow.

Jim shrugs, his hand going to the back of his neck, “Yeah, well… I can’t help it. Forgive me?”

“I do,” Spock says dismissively, “I am, however, gratified to hear that you find me aesthetically pleasing, Jim.”

“Uh, yeah, definitely.”

“It has been one Earth year, I believe it was my turn to give you a gift.”

“Yup,” Jim’s smile widens, “What ya’ got for me?”

“I…” Spock turns back to Jim with the package in hand, “I will admit, I am unsure of how well you will receive it.”

“Come on, these are just sometimes dumb gifts we give one another,” Jim waves his hand dismissively, “Last year I gave you a snowglobe, it’s not supposed to be that big of a deal. Not like the first time, at least.”

Spock considers Jim’s words and then offers the box to him, “I am afraid that this gift is perishable. Though you have years before you need to be concerned, it /is/ the kind of gift that will eventually… become depleted.”

“Depleted?” Jim opens the box and looks at the glass vial and its unusual contents, lifting it and staring at it curiously, “Okay, I’m lost. What is it?”

“This is called ‘Redspice’,” Spock tells him, “It is used in cooking.”

Jim’s face lights up in glee, “No shit, I can cook with this? It’s a spice?”

“It is a Vulcan spice, yes,” Spock confirms, ducking his head only slightly, pleased with how Jim reacts to it, “Typically used in broth, it can be quite versatile. I do believe that Terran would also enjoy it on meats, although I have never tried myself.”

“Spock, are you kidding? This is awesome,” Jim leans in and kisses him again.

Spock starts to kiss back when he hears the footsteps on the landing just a short distance from the guest room door. He pushes Jim back gently, hurriedly shoving on his glove as Jim looks at him in confusion.

The door opens without a knock, Spock’s mother poking her head in, “How are you two doing in here? Everything alright?”

Spock nods curtly, “Yes, mother. Jim is pleased with the gift I have presented him this time.”

“Is he?” she asks, looking at Jim, “Your mother has told me that you have been cooking on your own lately.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jim nods, “I can’t wait to use it on tomorrow’s breakfast. Is there any chance you’ll want some of the uh… the meat?”

Spock watches as his mother looks at him as if asking for permission, but then she asks him something that surprises him, “Would you like to try some as well, Spock?”

Spock’s eyes widen, he slowly looks back to Jim, speaking his thoughts aloud, “Saying ‘no’ would only result in exposing an unwillingness to try new things,” he tells him, “As our seven year journey so far dictates, it would be both hypocritical and counterproductive to decline the offer.”

Jim stares at him, brows furrowed, “So… yes?”

“I will partake,” Spock nods, “Although I cannot promise you that I will like it, I am willing to give it a try. Not only as a show of companionship, but out of my own curiosity having never tried meat myself. What kind would it be?”

“Bacon,” Jim says at once, “Which is pig.”

Spock nods again, “Mother,” he looks back at her, “It would only be logical for me to change out of my robes, seeing as we are staying. Should I do so before dinner tonight?”

“Whenever you like, sweetheart,” she tells him, “Just make sure you’re not too cold.”

She leaves the door open before stepping away from their room. Spock walks over to it and closes it in confusion.

“Might wanna leave that bad boy open.”

“Bad... boy?” Spock asks Jim.

“The door,” Jim explains, “A Terran custom. It’s a way of saying that they don’t trust us to be in a room alone.”

“But we /are/ in this room alone.”

“With the door closed.”

“Whatever does the door have to do with us being in this room alone or not?”

Jim chuckles, “They can hear us better with it open. So they know we’re not up to anything,” he moves in, pressing a kiss to the corner of Spock’s lips, “You know, /wrong/.”

Spock looks at Jim, pressing their foreheads together, “Nothing I do with you is wrong, _ashayam_.”

He then steps to his luggage and begins removing his robes. He meets Jim’s gaze, stepping out of them finally and Jim’s eyes look him over as he folds the robes and puts them away.

This is the first time Spock has been without his robes since the very first time they met, when Spock showed Jim his thermal jacket. He turns to see the orange color of Jim’s cheeks, the freckles of his skin like flecks of paint, the parting of his lips.

Spock then does something he would not normally do. It is cold, but he reaches his hands up to snap the buttons on his jacket, pulling it open and drawing the zipper down before stripping it off as well.

Jim’s eyes are wide as he steps in close, touching the skin tight fabric of Spock’s black shirt, “You’re so thin,” he says, hands spreading out to grip the toned muscles of Spock’s arms.

“Mother complains about this as well.”

“No, no,” Jim recovers quickly, “I’m not complaining. I like it,” he admits then, pulling Spock into his arms and Spock realizes why Jim would find it pleasing. He does fit so perfectly within Jim’s embrace.

After a moment, he wraps his arms around Jim as well and allows himself a deep breath to fully emerge himself in all of Jim.

* * *

“I do not think this is wise, Jim,” Spock stares down at the water with wide-eyed fear.

“Oh come on, it’s not so cold,” Jim whips his hair from his eyes, “Get in already.”

“I do not know how to swim.”

Jim blinks up at him, “Oh…” he glances around, then stands, “Well, we can just stay in the shallow area. I can help you learn.”

Spock considers Jim’s proposal.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

“I do,” Spock says at once, then he starts to undress.

Jim watches him, motioning out for him to hurry up, then he chuckles, “Your nipples are green.”

Spock stills, his thermal jacket above his head with his arms, head still stuck in the neck of it as he glances down, “Yes they are, Jim.”

“Didn’t expect that.”

Spock steps out of his shoes and his pants, leaving him in the long, tight, thermal under-shorts that reach his knees.

Tentatively, he steps down, finally joining Jim in the water. Jim’s arms are warm, drawing him in as Spock shudders. The two of them spin around together in the water, Jim’s hands careful to make sure he doesn’t stray out of reach.

“I guess it makes sense you wouldn’t know how to swim,” he says, “Considering Vulcan is like… all desert.”

“It feels most unusual being submerged in water from my feet to my neck,” Spock throws out his arms, his toes curling against the wet floor of the lake.

“Feels good though?”

“It is cold,” Spock responds, lifting his brows, “But it is not unpleasant.”

Jim drops down his head in the water, rising up and spurting a mouthful of water at Spock.

Spock blinks and stares at him, “Jim-” he starts to complain and then he lets out an unusual shriek of surprise when something slithers past him, brushing against his back.

Jim starts laughing at him, kicking his feet out on either side of Spock, “I’m gonna go on a limb and guess a fish just swam by you?”

“Go on a limb?” Spock asks in confusion.

“Means uh… to make a guess,” Jim explains, “it was a fish, right?”

“I… think so,” Spock says tentatively, “As I did not see it, I cannot be sure of what it was.”

“It was a fish,” Jim concludes, “They do that sometimes.”

“You did not tell me there were fish in the water, Jim.”

Jim shrugs, “It’s a lake, there’s all kinds of stuff in here,” he must see something in Spock then, because he makes a shushing sound, “It’s cool, okay, nothing that’s gonna eat you. Nothing like that.”

“I do not know how comfortable I am in the water anymore, Jim.”

“Chill, okay,” Jim raises his hand, “You’re safe with me. You trust me, remember? I’ve swam in this lake a thousand times, if not more. You’re /safe/. I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

“You are,” Spock breathes out shakily, “Although now I am unsure how you have managed to make it so far.”

Jim laughs and then proceeds to teach Spock how to swim properly.

He is a quick study, but he does not master it in the time they have between then and their mothers catching them in the lake and getting upset with them for not telling anyone what they were doing.

* * *

Spock feels the bed dip at his side and he opens his eyes, staring up at Jim through the soft glow of the morning light, “ _Ha'tha ti'lu, ashayam_.”

“ _Nashaut, vaksurik_ ,” Jim says and grins, and then his lips are upon Spock’s.

Spock is not prepared, but he is willing, turning onto his back as Jim slips under the covers with him.

Their hands meet, mouths opening, tongues touching, and Spock feels that familiar ache in his heart and in his gut. He presses his free hand to Jim’s chest, feeling the much slower heart as it starts to race, as though trying to meet Spock’s beat for beat.

He feels Jim’s hand press up under his shirt, a cool thumb ghosting over his right nipple, and then there is a sudden stab in his mind.

Spock sits upright, nearly shoving Jim off of him as he gasps in pain.

His arms shake, his entire body trembling.

“Spock?” he can barely hear Jim as he stumbles off the bed, “Spock? What’s wrong? I’m sorry, did I do something-”

Spock feels the pain again, stronger this time, and he knows it at once. His knees give out and he collapses hard on the floor.

“Spock?”

Spock whimpers in agony, leaning into his bonded, fingers lacing with Jim’s as he lets out harsh, ragged breaths.

His door opens suddenly and his mother is at his side.

Their eyes meet and she pulls him to her.

“What’s going on?” Jim asks in fear and confusion.

Spock is barely able to breathe, his head on his mother’s lap as he looks at Jim, tears in his eyes, “Something… has happened.”

“Was it something I did?”

“No, Jim,” Spock tells him at once, shaking still, “No.”

* * *

Twenty years ago, Spock thought his world as he knew it had ended.

His grandmother and his father’s death were but two of twenty that started the seemingly endless war between the Vulcans and the Terran. He was ripped from his bonded the day they died, and soon realized that he would never see Jim again.

War started, and Spock was thrust into it at an early age, expected to take up arms to get revenge for the priceless lives and knowledge lost to their people.

As Vulcans settled bases on Earth, as the war began, what was a timid relationship became volatile almost in a single moment.

Not one day passed that Spock did not think of the blue-eyed boy and the love and companionship they shared. Bonded for life to a Terran, he welcomed himself to isolation from others emotionally. As he grew, he refused to allow himself to hold out any hope that Jim was still alive, not when the Terran body count continued to rise.

And he knew, in time, should he ever experience Pon Farr, that he would not be able to outlast it through meditation alone. He would never give himself to another. The fire of it would consume him and finally, only then, he would join that same beautiful creature he had been only briefly blessed to have known.

Twenty years, and he never once experienced the blood fever.

Twenty years, and the Terran were finally realizing that they were fighting a losing battle, but they were refusing to give up.

Terran that wanted no part in the war were welcomed by Vulcans - pardoned, and made peace with. Any resistance was quickly put out - whether by execution or other methods - the Vulcans were nothing if not swift in dealing out punishment.

Many Terran citizens were homeless, seeking shelter where they could find it, the most of them being gathered at specific Vulcan locations set up to help aide in the relief effort.

Spock took no part in the direct war himself, he concentrated on aiding the Terran in any way that he could.

As a Commander, he stationed himself at outpost after outpost aimed for relief and assisting in providing shelter and food for Terrans.

He was not the most celebrated Commander, but he was at least respected.

* * *

“You have been burying your expired provisions?” Spock asks coldly, looking at the PADD.

“Yes, sir.”

“On whose orders?”

“On… on… it is what we were told to do.”

“I will not approve this,” Spock shoves the PADD back into the man’s arms and then walks over to the large crates, frowning, “There are at least three thousand Terran outside of our walls that cannot fend for themselves as we slowly give admission and you are throwing away food that could be provided to them.”

The Vulcan watches him, Spock can feel his gaze, “It will waste in here, Commander. There is no reason to keep it as we have already received replacements.”

“You do not understand,” Spock turns to him, “The people beyond this outpost are starving. And you are wanting to bury these in dirt because… what reason? Because they are a day past expiration?”

“What are you suggesting?”

Spock narrows his eyes, “Load them up, we will take them out through the gate.”

The Vulcan stares at him in confusion until Spock raises his voice.

“If I have to repeat myself, you will be stripped of rank and thrown out with them to understand their suffering. Have I made my point clear, Lieutenant?”

The Vulcan’s back stiffens and he hurries past Spock, ordering a few of their crew to assist him.

Spock dismisses another Vulcan coming to him, “I will not sign this now, I do not have time.”

“Sir?”

“Call attention to the front gate, I will speak to them myself.”

“Sir, is that wise?”

“It is what I plan to do, are you questioning my judgement?”

She stops and shakes her head, then pulls the communicator from her belt, “Security, sound the gate alarm. Code: yellow.”

Spock walks past her hurriedly, straightening his thermal jacket and putting his hat upon his head as he walks through the buildings.

At once, he’s out on the wet dirt, ignoring the soft drizzle of rain.

He steps up to the gate, taking the stairs two at a time until he is out on the wall, “I apologize for the abrupt warning,” he tells the people below, some receiving medical attention, some Terrans even assisting the Vulcans, “I will ease your concerns by assuring you that there is still no space in the outpost today. The shuttles will arrive in two days at 0600 to take portions of our D and E wings. I would also like to extend my apologies because at that time we will only be letting in those that are of youth, age, or have real medical concerns.”

Spock stares down at the slumped shoulders, the looks of defeat, “I know how difficult this is. We are working tirelessly to assist in this relief, but it will take time to ensure everyone is considered and cared for in a calm and safe manner.” He pauses again, “I am aware you are all also tired of hearing us say that.”

A few of the Terran laugh in sad humor, being able to at least empathize with him for the moment.

“That all being said,” Spock raises his voice then, “I have just learned, as I am new to this outpost, that we have an extreme, overwhelming supply of rations that are said to have just expired yesterday. It is this outpost’s duty to dispose of them logically. Which, in our Vulcan terms, would be to discard them. To throw them away.”

A few Terran start to mumble at this, some in complaint.

“Expiration dates are not often concerned when you are starving,” Spock tells them, “And I have seen to them myself, they are not spoiled, they have been well stored. I only tell you this as a warning and as a precaution. Are my intentions clear?”

The group listening intently to him now nod.

“Would any of you be unwilling to accept these rations, knowing that they have expired?”

No one responds and Spock turns to his Lieutenant.

“Do you understand now?” he asks lowly, meeting the Vulcan’s surprised eyes as the gates open and the truck loaded with the rations drives out onto the path.

“I do, sir. My apologies.”

Spock turns back to the crowd, “Please, take your time, there is plenty to go around. If those able would form an orderly line. And if you are weak, Teknot and Sitar are here to assist you in getting what you require,” he motions to two of the Vulcans coming out after the truck, “I have not been here long. But you will all grow to know me as an efficient Commander. I am Spock. And I will do everything in my effort to-”

“Spock!?”

Spock stops speaking, eyes widening when a young man assisting an elderly woman turns and stands upright to look at him.

The moment their eyes meet, Spock’s shoulders ease at the hyacinth blue, the dirty blond hair, and his whole body aches at once. He is much older, wearing a worn green jacket, face and body covered with grime, but Spock would know him anywhere.

“Jim? _Qual se tu, ashayam_?”

Jim’s eyes light up with life, his grin wide and Spock moves from the top of the wall, down the stairs, almost to the gate just to be ran at and grabbed by Jim, the Terran throwing himself into Spock’s arms.

Warm arms encase him, hands grab his shoulders and then his neck and then they’re kissing in every way they can, hands and lips meeting. Spock forgets for the moment where and who he is, and suddenly he is twelve years old again, swimming in the water, waking up in the morning, walking off the shuttle.

“Spock?”

“Commander?”

Spock pulls back, staring at Jim as they continue to hold one another.

And then he straightens up, looking around them and clearing his throat when he sees how tense and confused the other Vulcans are.

“Please, excuse my actions,” Spock reaches down to pick back up his hat before he places his hands behind his back (the both of them almost unwilling to part hands), “This is…” he looks at Jim, tilting his head, not sure at all how to explain himself, “This is my _t’hai’la_.”

With that, every Vulcan around them gasp and some of them bow their heads.

“We are also bondmates,” Spock tells them, “I have thought he was dead for… for some time.”

A couple of the Vulcans speak out together, “ _S'ti th'laktra_.”

“Do not grieve,” Spock dismisses them, looking at Jim and resisting the urge to touch his face, “ _Ashayam_ , if you will come with me?”

He hardly waits for Jim to nod as he leads him back through the outpost, to his own quarters. He ignores the people that watch them pass, giving his Lieutenant command for what he thinks is currently an indeterminable amount of time.

Spock sets his cap down on the nightstand, “Jim, I am-” he stops when Jim grabs him and starts kissing him again.

He has so many things to say, but he latches onto Jim and cannot think of one of them worth interrupting their rejoining. Their hands find one another again, Jim pressing him suddenly to the wall as their mouths open, the warmer tongue pressing into his mouth and causing a groan of weakness to escape Spock’s throat.

Their hands then part, working together quickly to begin undoing the buttons on Spock’s thermal jacket. Spock will admit he is unsure where this venture is headed, he has never involved himself with another for sexual gratification, finding the need for it wane with the thought of the death of his bondmate. But the moment Jim’s hands get his jacket open, they drop to his pants.

Spock opens his mouth to say something, what he is not sure, but then the blond is on his knees, tugging out Spock’s swollen penis and drawing the engorged flesh into his open mouth until he gags.

“Jim,” he shudders, dropping his head back against the door, “ _Sanu_ , Jim.”

Spock barely registers Jim undressing himself, but he lifts his legs when his bondmate helps him out of his own boots and pants.

Jim does not leave him unattended, his actions lacking grace, but still pleasing as he continuously tests his throat with the head of Spock’s phallus.

Spock wills himself to open his eyes, but groans at what he sees when he does. He feels weak in the knees. Jim’s face a flush of orange and freckles, blue eyes wet with tears, lips spread wide around the green shade of Spock’s penis, slick with spittle and pre-ejaculate.

It is a gross mess.

A mess that causes Spock’s hands to tighten in Jim’s hair, his hips to arch forward suddenly and Jim gags again. But the sound he makes when Spock pulls back is a sin to hear.

Jim pushes down to the hilt, nose buried against Spock’s pubic hairs, eyes closed, hands gripping Spock’s backside tight and then he slowly pulls back off of Spock’s penis. His breath is ragged, coughing and spluttering, “ _Kwit-_ ” he breathes and Spock tenses, “ _Kwitaya…_ _kwit-tor_ , Spock.”

“Jim,” Spock says in a broken voice, and then Jim takes him into his mouth again.

Despite being unsure if he will be able to stand afterwards, Spock thrusts, hands still in Jim’s hair. He thrusts until he attains orgasm, Jim choking and pulling back to lick them clean.

“You don’t know this yet, but I am a /slut/ for sucking dick,” Jim says breathlessly as he brushes the side of his nose along the length of his penis.

Spock’s mouth drops open, unsure of how to properly respond.

Jim wipes his face, his hair from his eyes, standing back up and shoving off Spock’s jacket finally, his shirt quickly following, “I’m gonna fuck you,” he says and that is all Spock wants. It is all he has wanted for so long.

“ _Sanu_ ,” he kisses Jim’s shoulder, allowing Jim to move him from the door towards the bed.

Jim’s hands grip him once more, spreading his left cheek, his other hand pressing down and then he raises a brow, “Please tell me this is normal.”

“It is quite... normal, Jim,” Spock tells him, words evading him for a moment, “Vulcan males excrete a natural lubricant from both their anus and their penis during moments of copulation. Furthermore, we do not need preparation as Terran are familiar with-”

“God that’s hot,” Jim says against Spock’s mouth, “I gotta tell you, hearing you of all people talk dirty is /really/ doin’ it for me.”

Spock lifts his brows, “Talk… dirty, Jim?”

“Remind me to explain it all later,” Jim pushes him down onto the bed, climbing between his legs, “Right now I just wanna hear you screaming my name.”

Spock starts to object but goes quiet when Jim takes off his own undergarments, his red Terran penis jutting out in a curve.

“ _Ashayam_ ,” he says, “ _Kupi aitlu. Sanu. Kupi bolau_.”

“ _Du eit'jae_ ,” Jim tells him as he lifts Spock’s legs onto his hips, “ _Du vaksurik lu du eit'jae_.”

“Please, Jim,” Spock stares up at him, into his eyes, his hands touching Jim’s face as he remembers the last time they were together. How Jim came into his room and joined him in his bed. How they were so young and innocent then. How they did not know.

He has never been with another, but he is not afraid of this. He is not afraid of welcoming home what should have been his so very long ago.

Their hands find one another, fingers pressing together, lips joining as Spock feels the blunt head of Jim’s penis spread him open with ease. The passage is tight, but eager, taking him deep without resistance, and Spock draws Jim closer with his legs.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, Spock,” Jim tells him, “Look at you, look at how beautiful you are.”

“Jim-”

“You’re mine, Spock. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I am yours, _ashayam_ , always yours,” Spock responds as Jim starts to move within him, “I have always been and… shall always be yours, Jim.”

Jim holds his hips with his free hand, pistoning deep into Spock with every thrust, “ _Shei_ , Spock,” he demands and his hand moves from Spock’s, pushing Spock’s bangs from his face and kissing his forehead, “Let me know. Let /them/ know.”

And then Jim takes his fingers into his mouth, sucking on Spock’s middle and ring finger.

“Jim!” Spock shouts, unable to take his gaze from those blue eyes, his body arching, back rising from the mattress.

Teeth graze the pads of his fingers as Spock shouts again and ejaculates once more, weak, delirious moans escaping his lips as Jim continues to abuse the sensitive registers in his hand.

Finally, Jim lets him go, pounding in him deep and ruthless, breaths escaping as his hips snap forward and he releases his seed as well.

They collapse together, Spock’s legs dropping to the bed, their limbs tangling, bodies shaking together.

Spock holds Jim close for a long time, listening to their breathing as the world around them settles down. His hand cups the back of Jim’s neck, feeling that soft joy he always found in his bondmate’s touch.

“So… that was awesome,” Jim says and looks up to him at last, “But let’s not ever do it again.”

Spock frowns in confusion, “I do not understand, was it not enjoyable-”

“Not the sex,” Jim chuckles, “No, the sex was… god… the sex was everything. I mean the reason /why/ it was so intense.”

Spock is silent for a moment as he tries to understand Jim’s meaning, “You are… referring to us being parted for twenty years.”

“Yeah, /that/ whole thing,” Jim confirms, “Let’s not do that again.”

“It will never happen, _ashayam_.”

Jim sighs, turning his face into Spock and breathing him in, his hands moving over his body, “I gotta admit something, though.”

Spock lifts his brows, “Something you feel incredible guilt for?”

“I thought you were dead as well, Spock,” Jim tells him.

Spock frowns, “As I have already told you this is what I thought myself, why would-”

“I’ve been with others,” Jim cuts him off, “Lots… and lots, and lots of others.”

It takes him a moment to realize that Jim means sexually. He does not take offense. He knows how Terran can be when they are not monogamous.

“You thought I was dead,” Spock reasons, “Would you have me be jealous of others? I am not. I cannot shame you for seeking comfort in others when you needed it most.”

Jim nods slightly, “So, I take it you-”

“Never, Jim.”

Jim stiffens at that, his frown increasing, “Not… not once?”

“Not once.”

“Wow, don’t I feel like a tool.”

“A tool?”

“A piece of shit?” Jim says and Spock makes an astounded face, “An asshole?” he tries, Spock’s mind trying to understand, trying to compute, “A jerk. A real jerk for being with others.”

“Jim, you cannot compare yourself to me in this way,” Spock tells him firmly, “It is unfair as we are both not only two different beings, but we are two entirely different species as well. It is not uncommon for us to have seeked out different methods of coping in our separation. I… have something to admit as well.”

Jim lifts a brow and chuckles, “Alright, out with it, big guy.”

“Big-”

“You haven’t noticed you’re like two inches taller than me?” Jim teases, “Come on, let’s hear it. What’s your admission?”

Spock clears his throat, frowning now, “I… I have been reserved from even my peers. I-”

“You seemed pretty warm and fuzzy up on that wall,” Jim interrupts him, “That guy? That’s as mean as you get? You think you were… what? Cold and distant? You didn’t seem that way at all to me.”

“Jim-”

“The kindness that you showed out there is gonna save lives, Spock,” Jim sits up, much to Spock’s frustration, “I listened to it all. I mean, yeah, I had my hands busy, but I heard what you said. Cold? Reserved? No fucking way. You idiot.”

Spock does not understand why he is being insulted.

“You soft, marshmallow Vulcan idiot,” and then Jim is kissing him again.

They grasp one another, holding tight as they twist together in the sheets.

Spock knows he needs to return to his duties, but he will allow himself to indulge a bit longer, to lose himself in Jim now that he has found him once more.

* * *

Spock feels the hand on his chest, smoothing through the soft hairs, tracing unusual shapes. He cracks an eye open, watching Jim for a long moment before the arm around the other man draws him in impossibly closer.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Jim says and looks up at him, their lips meeting as though they’ve woken this way a thousand times before.

Spock’s hand rests on Jim’s cheek, cupping it and keeping him close as he finally pulls back to stare into his eyes.

“So, I can’t help noticing you have a blue hyacinth just sitting on your nightstand.”

“Indeed,” Spock confirms.

“It’s not the one I gave you,” Jim tells him, “Those only last like… three years. Four at the most.”

Spock nods, “It is not one of the seeds you provided me when we were five years old, Jim. It /is/, however, of the same seed line.”

Jim blinks in surprise, then smiles slowly, “You… you kept them going? Even after the first?”

“I believe you will be surprised, should we ever have a moment in which we can visit my home world together.”

“I’d honestly love nothing more,” Jim tells him, curling against him, “So, I take it you got responsibilities to get to this morning?”

“I do,” Spock confirms, “You have not yet told me what you have been doing during this time.”

Jim waves his hand, “Just helping old miserable bats with a less older, more miserable bat named Bones.”

“Bones?” Spock asks and Jim nods, “Quite an unusual name for a Terran, is it not?”

“His real name is Leonard,” Jim explains, “He’s out there now, probably worried sick about me. He kinda worries about everything.”

Spock sits upright, climbing from the bed to get dressed. He pauses when Jim whistles a high and a low note, looking back at Jim, “May I help you, Jim?”

Jim turns onto his back, arms folded behind his head as he shakes it, “Nope, I’m good /right here/.”

Spock is unsure, but he thinks… he assumes that Jim is… flirting?

“Are you finding pleasure in the spectacle you are observing, Jim?”

“Absolutely,” Jim tells him from his spot on the bed.

Spock lifts his brow at the tone of Jim’s voice and humors the Terran by keeping his backside to Jim and bending low to pick up his clothes from where they were tossed by the door.

“Goddamn.”

Spock smiles subtly to himself, tossing the undergarments and returning to the dresser to gather his things. As he dresses, he looks to Jim, “You will be going back out there. Will you return?”

“You want me to?”

“I do, Jim.”

“Then I’ll be back later tonight.”

“I will inform our fellow inhabitants,” Spock tells him, then takes an insignia from his nightstand and offers it to Jim, “Wear this upon your jacket, you will not be questioned when passing through security.”

Jim nods shortly, taking it as their hands brush. Then he is up on his knees, pulling Spock in and kissing him on the lips.

Spock kisses back, his free hand finishing the zip on his coat and he pulls away, “I must go.”

“See you later, _ashaya_.”

Spock observes Jim for just a moment longer before leaving the room to start his alpha shift.

* * *

Jim takes the seat across from Spock in the mess, staring down at his tray with an almost disgusted expression, “Wow, and here I thought you guys were eating better than the rest of us.”

Spock raises a brow, “On the contrary, the nutrients required for a Vulcan to continue to be efficient in their day to day duties is significantly less than Terran.”

“So eating…” Jim leans over to look into Spock’s bowl, “Lentil soup? That’s like a four course meal for you?”

Spock stares at him silently, then allows the briefest of quirks to his lips, “It may not seem as fulfilling to Terran, but it is more than sufficient.”

“Can’t taste all that good though, having it over and over again.”

“I will admit, it does get… tiresome.”

Jim smiles wide at him, looking down at his own food, which in comparison does make Spock’s seem like a child’s meal. He reaches into his jacket pocket and procures a bottle, pulling it up and opening it to shake some of its contents onto his mashed potatoes and the meat, which today is a slab of pork.

“You…” Spock registers the rise in his heart rate, recognizing the bottle for what it is, “You have carried that with you?”

Jim pauses and then realizes what he has done, chuckling and setting the bottle down on the table, “I… I guess, yeah. Can’t really enjoy a meal without it.”

“It is getting quite low.”

Jim nods, “Yeah, I’m honestly surprised it hasn’t run out yet.”

“I can have them supply you with a new bottle from the kitchens-”

“I dunno, I mean,” Jim stammers, “It sounds stupid but… like… sentimental value.”

Spock’s brows furrow, “For a bottle of Redspice?”

“Sounds stupid, right?” Jim chuckles, shrugging, “It’s not what it is, it’s what it represents.”

“What does it represent for you, Jim?”

Jim observes the bottle, spinning it on the table as he stares at what is left of the spice, “Companionship,” he says at first, his brows narrowing, “Two kids from completely different backgrounds, and despite that it somehow drew us closer together than we’d ever been with our own people.”

Spock rests his spoon down against his bowl, watching the expression on the other man’s face, feeling the emotion behind his eyes, “If only the rest of it were that simple.”

“Right?” Jim laughs a weak huff of air out and Spock notes him rolling his eyes, “I wish… there was something I could say,” his gaze meets Spock’s finally, “To make up for that day, everything that happened-”

“Was not your fault, Jim,” Spock tries to reassure him, “You are not responsible for what happened. There is no apology needed, and if you still feel as though you must… then I will readily accept whatever it is you have to say. But you were a child, we both were.”

“I never stopped thinking about that day,” Jim admits to him, “Holding you, worrying that… I thought I had hurt you, done something wrong.”

Spock lifts a brow, “Not an unexpected feeling,” he agrees, “I prefer to think of the minutes before that instead. They are much more preferable to me.”

Jim’s face heats and Spock sees the freckles come out, as though they were stars in the night sky, “Are you flirting with me, Commander Spock?”

“Vulcans do not flirt.”

“Then as you are half Vulcan, you’re half flirting with me?”

Spock’s eyes widen in surprise and he clears his throat, lifting his napkin to his lips to wipe them, “Perhaps you would prefer to have this conversation back in my quarters-”

“We could reenact those ‘minutes before’? Pick up where we left off?” Jim asks and when Spock does not readily respond, he supplies: “That /is/ me flirting.”

“I will see about getting your Redspice bottle refilled, not replaced,” Spock says, knowing that his blush has risen to his cheeks and ears. He stands from his seat, “I have a few things left to attend to. Once you have finished your meal, would you join me in my quarters?”

“Like you could talk me out of it.”

“I fail to see why I would-”

“I’ll be there, Spock,” Jim tells him, lifting his brows, “Give me ten minutes, maybe a little more.”

“Very well, Jim.”

Spock swallows tightly, straightening up and tilting his head before turning on his heel to leave the mess.

* * *

Spock opens his eyes when the sweated cheek lifts from his left breast, blue eyes meeting his as their hands play idly together.

“Your mom,” Jim says then, voice still hoarse from their lovemaking, “Is she back on Vulcan?”

“She is,” Spock confirms, “I have not been to see her in seven years.”

“God,” Jim sighs and presses wet lips in open-mouthed kisses along Spock’s skin, “That’s gotta be hard on you both.”

“More so on her, I believe,” Spock tells him, “I am far better at compartmentalizing. She has not been the same since we lost my father.”

Jim frowns, “Your dad died?”

Spock blinks at Jim and then realizes that perhaps the Terran do not know all of the details of what started the war, “The high council, Jim,” he explains, “Both my father and my grandmother were-”

“Jesus Christ, Spock. God, I didn’t know,” Jim says, sadness swelling in his eyes, “God, oh God, I’m so sorry.”

“Jim, it is not your place to apologize, as I have said before-”

And then Jim is up, kissing him, holding his face and cradling it in his hands.

Spock stares up at him, hands reaching to Jim’s sides as he receives his lips.

The kiss starts as a comfort, quickly changing and deepening into a longing connection of their mouths. Spock can still taste himself on Jim’s tongue, hungers for it.

He surrenders, feeling the man climb atop him, straddle his waist, fingers climbing under his shirt and brushing his nipples.

“I remember a certain conversation…”

Spock lifts his brows, “Indeed.”

“And it /is/ morning.”

“It is.”

“ _Nashaut, vaksurik_ ,” Jim whispers, not unlike he had that morning.

“ _Ha'tha ti'lu, ashayam_.”

Jim smiles and pushes up Spock’s shirt to his pits, dropping to pull the left nipple between his teeth.

Spock arches, a weak moan escaping his lips as Jim sits naked atop him, a hand moving to his soft hair, “Jim-”

“Should’ve gotten you out of these last night.”

Spock bucks when Jim’s fingers curl and shove their way into his regulation undershorts, “You are insatiable, ashayam.”

“I am,” Jim agrees, “I told you, didn’t I?”

“Told me?”

“That I was a slut for this,” Jim tells him as his mouth wraps around the head of Spock’s penis.

Spock drops his head back, shuddering as his communicator starts to beep incessantly. He reaches out for it, hands shaking, “Commander S-Spock… speaking.”

“Commander,” the voice sounds on the other side, “Are you awake? We did not mean to wake you. It is 0636.”

Spock lets out a low growl, looking down at Jim and trying to keep his voice from wavering as the Terran takes the whole of him into the warmth of his mouth, “I… have been delayed. How can I be of assistance, Captain?”

“I wanted to confirm the shuttles arriving tomorrow morning at 0800.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Very well, have you prepared the Terran that are ready to be transported?”

Spock lets out a choked gasp, fingers grabbing tight in Jim’s hair. But instead of pushing him away, he shoves his hips up, pulling Jim down until his lips are flush around the base of Spock’s penis.

Jim gurgles, but does not make to stop him or pull off.

“Commander?”

“Y-yes… Captain,” Spock says, barely able to think beyond the lust raging through his blood, “They… they are prepared.”

“Very well,” the voice on the communicator is stiff, “I will see you tomorrow morning, Commander Spock.”

“Yes, Captain,” Spock responds in a clipped tone, ending the connection and finally yanking Jim back to look into his watered eyes, “Jim, I apologize-”

“God, no, do it a...a-again, do it again,” Jim manages, lips swollen and gasping for air, tears streaking his cheeks.

Spock opens his mouth, then presses his lips together, eyes wide.

“Come on,” Jim leans down to rub and nuzzle against Spock’s penis in a show of desire and submission.

Spock feels as though his brain may explode, if it were possible at all. He cups Jim’s cheeks, pulling him down onto himself once more.

* * *

The moment Spock is out of his second meeting, one of his Lieutenants joins his side, speaking lowly.

“I have been trying to reach you, Commander.”

“And I have been in meetings, as you are aware.”

“It is important,” the Vulcan says, then grabs Spock’s arm.

Spock bristles, halting his footsteps at once and turning to the younger man, “You will unhand me, Lieutenant, and tell me at once what would cause you to act with clear disregard of rank.”

“ _Ni'droi'ik nar-tor_ , Captain,” the Vulcan pulls away, “But there seems to be a Code Red in Wing-”

“Code Red?” Spock asks, almost stunned, “Why did you not sound the alarm?”

“I… have never been in charge until today, Captain. I was unsure-”

Spock growls and, for the first time in his life, he almost releases an expletive aloud, “Nirak, what is the purpose of the Code Red and what wing?”

“Wing C, sir,” the Vulcan ducks his head, “An outbrea-”

He doesn’t even finish the word before Spock turns and sprints down the corridor, reaching out for the nearest alarm. He smashes the glass, slamming his fist on it and turning as the other Vulcan joins him again.

Together they leave the hall, out the back door to Wing C and Spock stops at the commotion outside of the door. His eyes widen when he sees the state of the man being carried out and he turns to his Lieutenant, “Get every able Vulcan in this wing out now.”

Spock steps up to the second floor, pulling the microphone for the alarm, “This is your Commander speaking, we require security at the flag entrance of Wing C. Lock down the gate and halt all transportation immediately. Spock out.”

He steps back down, walking to the two Vulcans carrying the man, “Do not take him to the medbay.”

“But Commander-”

“Do not question me,” Spock says firmly, “There are-”

“We have already taken three others like him to the medbay.”

Spock stares at them for just a breath before he waves his hand, “Keep him in Wing C. Do /not/ return to medbay. You are to lock down this Wing until security arrives to await my further instruction, do you understand me?”

He doesn’t wait for them to respond, hurriedly walking to the medbay and he stops halfway when he realizes that the same has already started outside of their front entrance.

“Commander.”

Spock turns to the woman running to him, “The gates are locked, but there’s a man outside it with our insignia-”

He walks past her, ignoring her as she joins in step with him as he motions for the Vulcans at the gate to open them.

“Let him in.”

Jim hurriedly rushes in, another man behind him, “Spock!” he shouts, eyes wide, “What-what’s going on?”

“Jim-”

“I’m a doctor, is it anything I can help with?”

“Jim, I-” Spock stops and looks at the other man, observing him quickly, “You are a doctor?”

“Yes, that’s what I said, pointy.”

Spock frowns and nods to the Vulcan waiting for his command to close the gate once more. He takes the man by the arm, “Doctor, I am unsure you will be of much help. Furthermore, I am unsure of whether or not your own life will be at risk-”

“What? You act like you’re havin’ some sort of outbreak or somethin’-” he stops and Spock stares at him flatly, “Jesus Christ, what’s the damage?”

“I am unsure. I was in meetings for the last five hours, my acting Commander has only just enlightened me of the state of alarm.”

“You certainly are unsure of a lot of things, for a Commander.”

“Bones,” Jim protests.

Spock leads them around the back of the outpost, meeting up with the security team, “Split into two teams. The medbay has also been compromised. I want them locked down immediately, and anyone showing signs to be returned to one of these two-”

They are all cut off when shots start ringing out around them, Spock reaching out to grab Jim but not before a line of Terran drop over the back side of the fence.

“Raid!” one of the security team shouts in warning before the Terran open fire.

Spock grabs Jim, “We need to find cover,” he tells him.

The wall to their left explodes inward, more Terran coming in already met with resistance as the Vulcans from inside the wing come out to join them.

Spock’s eyes narrow through the dust and wreckage, and then he takes the grenade from his belt, clicking it and throwing it up toward the roof of the nearest building. The moment it goes off, everything charged with nadion is pulled to it as though it were a magnet.

Jim looks back up at it as the phasers and other particle weapons form a mass around the active grenade, “Holy shit… that’s… useful,” he turns to Spock, “No wonder you guys are winning this war.”

“Jim-” Spock starts to tell him that they are still far from safe when a bullet - a real, lead bullet - hits Jim and throws him back.

More shots ring out, sharp, taking down the Vulcans around them as the doctor that was with Jim ducks.

“Jim, no!” Spock shouts, running to him, “Jim!”

He feels the bodies give, feet over them, grabbing for his t’hai’la.

Jim stares up at him, eyes wide, blood seeping from his jacket and covering Spock’s hand, “Stop shouting, I’m fine-” he says, but then he goes limp and his eyes close.

“Jim!” his voice is a wreck, a sob, “ _Kuv tev-tor du - nam-tor nash-veh sa'awek_.”

Spock shakes Jim’s shoulder, his mind blind with panic when he feels the radio silence come in from their bond. Jim is unmoving, chest stiff, mouth still open. Spock tries desperately to cling onto some part of his sanity, but it snaps clear when he registers the chaos still happening around him.

At once, he’s on his feet, vision gone red with rage and agony.

He marches over the corpses, rushing to the man with the gun, yanking it from his hands and smashing it within his bare fists.

Though it has grown silent now that there are no weapons being shot, the fight continues around him.

He starts grabbing at his fellow Vulcans, throwing them back from their engagements and knocking away anyone that tries to stop him. When pushing them aside doesn’t work, he resorts with violence until they comply - nerve pinches first, but then nearly fatal blows as his control cracks and bows under the weight of his emotions.

Terran after Terran are thrown off their feet, but in the haze of his rage, he hears the soft, weak breath of his name.

It barely registers at first.

“Spock, please. Spock.”

He throws down the Vulcan peer he had removed from atop a Terran victim and turns to the pile of bodies once more.

Jim is there, tentatively lifting himself from the wreckage as the doctor stands behind him, a device clasped tight in his hands.

“Jim, we need to get you inside-”

“Spock,” Jim repeats, looking at him with fear and shock.

The rage dissipates at once, and what little shielding Spock has goes with it. He starts walking towards the open arms, tears dropping down his cheeks, his own arms stretching out before Jim is in them again. The sobs break through him, his body shuddering as he grasps Jim’s shoulders and holds him close.

And then they’re kissing, lips and hands and it’s smothering, crushing, relieving.

Spock loses himself, allows it because he has denied himself this grief and celebration for so long.

They hold onto one another, both shaking for different reasons, mouths open and breath staggering as they clutch at one another. Jim’s hand moves to Spock’s cheek and he covers it with his own, feeling the hum of life as the sides of their fingers brush.

When they register their surroundings once more, Spock decides that it is time he does what he should have done to moment he laid eyes upon Jim after twenty years of being separated.

He takes Jim up in his arms, holds him close to his chest, staring into his blue eyes, and he leaves.

He leaves the battleground, the people watching in astonishment, he takes one of the abandoned Vulcan transporters and removes him and Jim from society at large.

Spock does not know when and if the war will ever end, but he is done losing himself in all of it.

He is done with risking their lives to try and quell the rage between the two races.

Jim sits beside him as he drives, takes his hands and their eyes meet.

He wants to fight Spock, but he doesn’t. They have both seen enough of the destruction. Victims of war, it is time they started their recovery, washed themselves of it all, and tried to move on together.

**Author's Note:**

> Taluhk nash-veh k'dular  
> I cherish thee
> 
> Ashau nash-veh du.  
> I love you.
> 
> Kuv tev-tor du - nam-tor nash-veh sa'awek.  
> If you die, I’m alone.
> 
> Du vaksurik.  
> You are beautiful
> 
> tonk'peh  
> hi, hello  
> Nashaut  
> na'shaya  
> greetings; hello
> 
> S'ti th'laktra  
> I grieve with thee
> 
> rom-halan  
> farewell
> 
> Qual se tu?  
> Is it you?
> 
> ni'droi'ik nar-tor  
> I am sorry
> 
> Ha'tha ti'lu  
> Good morning
> 
> sanu  
> please
> 
> kwit  
> thrust  
> kwit-tor  
> kwitau  
> push  
> kwitaya  
> push
> 
> bolau  
> need
> 
> Kupi  
> I
> 
> aitlu  
> want
> 
> eit'jae  
> beg
> 
> Du vaksurik lu du eit'jae  
> You are beautiful when you beg.


End file.
